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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760464">regroup</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickztr/pseuds/trickztr'>trickztr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, these guys know how to take care of one another okay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:08:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickztr/pseuds/trickztr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Between their escape from Merrick's lab and the trial at the pub, the gang takes a night off to recenter. </p><p>They each get the time off they deserve.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache &amp; Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani &amp; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, Booker - Relationship, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>regroup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is completely self-indulgent. I just wanted an excuse to write my ships being domestic, while also taking the opportunity to torment Booker.</p><p>I hope you guys like it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They make it out of the city before Booker notices the blood dripping down Andy's side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We should stop." He says, urgently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Andy counters, calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're gonna bleed out here!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, and whose fault is that!" Joe spits, and Nicky places a hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I let that go because we had to keep moving, but I have shit to say now!" He kicks Booker's seat. "You selfish son of a bitch, you almost killed her! They carved me and Nicky and all for what? Because you're depressed? Fuck that, go to therapy!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lurch forward as the car screeches to a stop. Andy cranes her neck back and stares them all down. "We're not doing this now. We're tired and hoofed up on adrenaline." She takes a deep, wheezing breath. "Quite frankly, all I care about now is sleeping until my bones stop aching. And you," she glares at Joe. "Need to cool off." Andy rubs a hand over her face. "We'll take the day off. Split up. It'll make it harder for them to track us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one contradicts her. Not one of them makes eye contact with her. "You and Nicky. Me and Nile." She faces forward again. "Booker will enjoy this break alone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do we contact you?" Nicky asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't. We'll regroup at Whitby, ten A.M., sharp. Until then," Andy unlocks the doors. "Lay low, boys."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>JOE AND NICKY </span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere between Reading and Oxfordshire - dusk</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The key is still where Nicky buried it, nearly ninety years ago. The cracked window implies an intruder didn't need it in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, the air feels thick, heavy. It smells of old wood and moldy walls. Joe gags, but can't help the laugh bubbling up in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No place like home," he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky smiles back, faintly. His fingers trace the mantelpiece, and a thick layer of dust coat them. "Has certainly seen better days."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not the only one," Joe says, his eyes scrutinizing Nicky's frame. "Come, my love," he reaches out a hand. "Let's see if those copper pipes still work."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you. This is very nice," Nicky says, leaning his head back as Joe pours warm water over it. "But I'd prefer it if you were here with me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe chuckles. "I'll get in soon enough, my love." He scrubs the hair in the back of Nicky's hair. "As soon as I stop finding bits of blood in your hair."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky places a hand over Joe's, stilling him. "I'm fine, I promise." He tips his head further back, and Joe leans down, kisses him softly. "I know your mind is uneasy right now," He eventually talks again. "Mine is too, but it's not the time to worry about things we can't control."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nicky--"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not our time right now. We should enjoy what we have while we still have it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe clenches his jaw. "I was too slow. If I had just ducked sooner--"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get in the tub with me, and stop thinking." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>NILE AND ANDY</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>a bunker in the woods, location undisclosed - before sundown</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andy grabs a bottle of whiskey in one of the cabinets, then goes for the first aid kit she found in the glove compartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You should take a shower first," Nile tells her, and goes for the bottle. "You'll just get those bandages wet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The stitches itch. I think they got infected," Andy hisses as she takes a sit by the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's way too soon for them to get infected." Nile frowns. "The antibiotics might be wearing off, though. Go wash up. I'll try to get you some real medicine." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy shakes her head, her vision swimming. "Too risky. Someone might follow you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Need I remind you I was marine just three days ago? I can cover my tracks, don't worry." She helps Andy up. "Do you need any help in there?" Nile nods at the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, it's fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright. Don't trip, or fall, or, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span> while I'm gone, okay? I'll be right back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile returns a little over an hour later. She's carrying a small bag of medicines, as well as a larger take-out one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy is sleeping in the (approximation of a) couch. Her hair is wet, and she's wearing an old t-shirt. Nile smiles. This is the most comfortable she's seen Andy look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quietly puts the bags on the tiny table near the door and decides she needs a shower herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The place is small, and there isn't anything that remotely looks like a bedroom. Just a small kitchen, the bathroom, a minibar, and the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple of hours later, after they've eaten and Nile has changed Andy's bandages, the topic of sleeping arrangements comes up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's cool," Nile says, maybe a little too casually. "I'll just take the floor. We used to do it all the time in the field, and--"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't be ridiculous," Andy cuts her off, already lying down. "We can both fit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile tries not to pay too much attention to the warmth that rises in her belly at that. Besides, she thinks, trying to squash the hope bubbling up inside her, Andy doesn't seem like the type who cuddles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span>BOOKER</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>a hotel in London - two-thirty in the afternoon</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their regenerative abilities make inebriation a challenge. It's not that they can't get drunk. It just that it takes an extraordinary amount of alcohol to do it. The bartender stares at him with poorly veiled concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Booker thinks. "Another one," he taps the counter, and the man hesitantly pours him another shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They'll banish him, he knows it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whiskey slides off his tongue and down his throat smoothly. At this point, it doesn't even burn anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'll deserve it too, he figures. If they cast him out, can he even blame them? Things got so terribly out of control. How was he supposed to know Andy was losing her immortality? And Merrick, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucker</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Spoiled piece of shit, he was just supposed to offer them a way out, not torture the fuck out of them! Little turd got was coming to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so will he. Booker knows it. He briefly wonders if there will be, like, a ritual of some sort. Perhaps a ceremonial burning to cleanse him? Sounds dramatic enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Should've been him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Again," he orders, feeling the alcohol start to affect him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think you've had enough, mate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker glares at him. "I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pour. Again.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s past midnight and he can’t sleep. Booker feels like throwing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He toys with the burner phone in the nightstand. Maybe he should call her. Make sure she’s still okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. It could make things worse. Who knows what could be tracking them right now. Booker puts the phone back on the nightstand and turns on his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all love him, right? Sure, they’re angry--which they’re entitled to be!--, but in the end, they’re all what each other got. And especially now that Andy is mortal again? No one will want to waste time holding grudges, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p><p> </p>
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